


don't wish, don't start (wishing only wounds the heart)

by WishingTree



Category: Atypical (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, full of nothing, this is a nothing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingTree/pseuds/WishingTree
Summary: “It’s just, sometimes, a thing feels, like… so right. You know?”Of right and wrong, and maybe the spaces in between.





	don't wish, don't start (wishing only wounds the heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone I'm currently in the midst of dying and have no idea what's going on, both in regards to my life and this mini fic
> 
> Title from I'm Not That Girl from Wicked;

Izzie’s not an idiot – she knows a thing or two, has learned enough stuff in her life to be confident that she’s not a totally immoral asshole. Maybe she doesn’t know the exact definition of right and wrong – who does? – but she’s practically raising three kids, and she’d like to say she’s doing a damn good job of it, all things considered.

So, she knows things. And making a move on someone already in a relationship?

…Wrong.

 

“I can’t believe we drove four towns away just to find a 7/11 that serves cotton candy slurpees,” Izzie declares, voice soft and playful as she catches the straw between her teeth again and takes a sip. 

Casey huffs a laugh, toying with her own cup and stating, “I have no regrets.” 

The word _regrets_  hits a chord within Izzie, resonates through her mind, and all she can do is try to smile around her mouthful of ice. If that’s the case, she’s glad at least one of them is satisfied.

“So guess what?” Casey continues, not letting silence fall over them. She sounds so pleased with herself and so proud that Izzie can’t help but look over, helpless in the face of all that is Casey Gardner. She’s beautiful, and it’s of no surprise to Izzie that she isn’t quite ready for her declaration of, “I had sex again.”

Her breath catches, but Izzie doesn’t let that stop her from rolling her eyes and forcing a smile on her face as she turns her head away. “With Evan?” she says lightly, already knowing the answer. She does her best to ignore the pit in her stomach that tightens every time she even thinks of it, but she’s only marginally successful.

“No, with myself,” Casey drawls in her usual brazen way, “Still counts though, right?” 

“Shut up,” Izzie laughs, mentally applauding herself for only sounding a little bit strained, and Casey casts her eyes down to look at her drink.

“Yeah, with Evan,” she concedes, and Izzie tells herself that she has to be imagining the regret she hears in the words. Casey plows forward, not giving her a chance to pull herself together before she adds, “I really love him.”

Well, now Izzie really wants to tell herself that she has to be imagining that whole entire sentence, but as she leans her head back against the seat, she knows she can’t.

“I know you do,” Izzie says mildly, hoping her face is forming the appropriate expression. Her heartbeat is thudding loudly in her ears, somehow both distant and the only thing making any sound in the quiet of the car, and Izzie bites her bottom lip hard. Of course she knows. 

Before she can settle in to that particular feeling of heartbreak, Casey speaks again.

“It’s just, sometimes, a thing feels, like… so right. You know?” 

And yeah.

Yeah, she does know.

They’re both leaning their arms on the centre console between their seats, and Izzie is hyperaware of everything Casey is, sitting so close to her. She exhales as quietly as she can, knowing of exactly one thing that feels right like she’s describing, and her fingers twitch nervously.

Taking another hesitant breath, Izzie stretches out her pinkie until it’s brushing against Casey’s, the movements cautious and anything but smooth. She manages to stop herself from making a sound when she feels Casey move to meet her in the middle, linking their fingers together, but just barely.

She’s trapped her bottom lip between her teeth again, and internally berates herself for the way she’s acting. This isn’t supposed to be who she is, so unsure about the things she wants. But this time the thing she wants is a person, not a thing at all, and it’s _Casey_. It’s different - it’s new.

The condensation from her slurpee is seeping through the front of her shirt, dripping cold against her hand and legs, but Izzie is too afraid to move. She holds still as she can and stares out the window unseeingly, and Casey shifts against her seat next to her.

But contrary to what Izzie is bracing herself for, she doesn’t shift away. Not knowing what to think or how to stop herself, Izzie keeps moving her hand over Casey’s, keeps reaching out until they’re holding hands properly, and then Casey turns her hand over so they can lace their fingers together, and Izzie’s pretty sure she’s not breathing anymore.

Their hands stay linked, and little by little, Izzie lets that quiet hope inside of her grow.

She doesn’t know what _this_ –any of this – is, but she does know one thing. 

It doesn’t feel wrong. 


End file.
